Disclaimer: I own neither 'Gunslinger Girl' nor 'The Dark Knight', which belong to their rightful owners respectfully.

…

Why So Serious?

By Charles Xavier

…

Part One

…

Ding-dong.

"Who could that be?" said the father.

It was rare to have visitors at the family's doorstep during Christmas, especially before they were to have a hearty dinner. The youngest child, however, didn't sense the slightest odd tingle. Quite ironically, she was leaping up and down on her chair as if she had already opened up all her presents.

"It's Santa Claus!" she clapped her hands at the dinner table wildly. "He's really here, mommy! I told you he'd come!"

"Don't be silly!" said her older sister. "Santa doesn't ring on people's doors. He climbs down the chimney when you're asleep and leaves your presents under the Christmas tree!"

Ding-dong again.

"That must be Claudia from next door." said the mother, folding her napkin. "I'll go and answer it. She said she needed to borrow some candles."

"Don't take too long, dear." said the father, opening a bottle of red wine. "We wouldn't want the food to get cold or have our kids starve to death on this freezing night."

The children chorused with laughter whilst the mother opened the door to greet her neighbor…until she realized that she had welcomed in an utter stranger that wasn't all so friendly. He was holding a SPAS-12 shotgun in his gloved hands, poking it at her belly. The mother's eyes dropped in shear terror. A single shot…and she collapsed on a glass coffee table, shattering it to pieces. The door burst open, letting in the winter's breeze that gave way for a group of masked thugs to storm the house. She could do nothing but writhe in pain with her bloodstained hands.

"Mommy!" the children abandoned their seats and raced to her aid, but were stopped when the thugs grabbed them off their feet like teddy bears.

The father grabbed the nearest knife on the table and attempted to stab one of the intruders, but was kicked in the jaw so hard that a tooth fell out. He tried reaching out for his helpless wife, who was forced to hear her children desperately crying out for her.

The youngest child hurried underneath the sofa, hoping to evade capture. But she felt a pair of cold hands grab her delicate ankles and pull her back. She blindly kicked a thug in the face, crawling away in panic, but another one picked her up to prevent her escape. Struggling didn't make anything easier. Her eyes were fixed towards her father, on his bruised knees and begging for mercy.

"Please…not my children!" he pleaded to the man with the colored face. "Take anything you want. But please, don't hurt my family anymore!"

The sloppy man wiped the dirt off from his purple jacket and straightened his tie, throwing aside the smoking shotgun he had recently fired. The cold-hearted look in his empty eyes was all the proof needed to show that he didn't give a shit about the father's words. He grabbed his jaw, sticking a knife into his mouth and whispering something into his ears. Glancing over at the grief-stricken children, at the bleeding mother stripped of her clothes, and finally to the frightened youngest child, he then said…

"Why so serious?"

…

"Why so serious, Henrietta?" said Jose, offering her a piece of his cotton candy. "Relax. It's not every day you get to come out and see a circus performance."

Henrietta was bored sitting next to her handler. None of the acts amused her. Flying acrobats on their trapezes, standing elephants dancing in one line, lions and tigers jumping through fiery hoops, a poodle in a tutu doing a ridiculous dance…she found no charm in them at all. Kids screamed demanding for more, waving their shiny balloons and smiling with popcorn stuck in their teeth. Yet behind all the youthful cheers and laughter, Henrietta alone remained silent. Jose was starting to feel bad about bringing her here. He had hoped that this night out would be entertaining for her. But he was quite positive that the upcoming act was sure to give her a chuckle.

"Here come the clowns." Jose pointed at the unfurling curtains.

A mass army of clowns entered the ring with their rolling balls, juggling pins and unicycles. Some were walking on stilts waving below at the audience while others went round playing jokes on unsuspected people. As the deafening organ music played, Henrietta couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. It was like smelling a decomposed body…or knowing that a child rapist was nearby to assault her. The clowns' colorful makeup was haunting with their blood painted lips and unusually exaggerated grin. It seemed all too surreal for her to stomach, not to mention their unnerving laugh. She was meant to enjoy this just like the other children, but why did she suddenly have these sick feelings? Even she couldn't figure out the reason herself.

"Are you feeling okay, Henrietta?" Jose wasn't blind to see the nervous expression on her face. "What's the matter?"

"Can we please leave? I'm not feeling very well."

A bypassing clown honked his horn right in Henrietta's ear, who jumped out of her seat in fright and grabbed Jose's jacket for dear life. Jose didn't know what to say about her reaction. He could already see the tears running down her cheeks, and it was clear that she didn't like clowns…let alone she was afraid of them. There was no reason why they needed to stay here any longer. It was getting late anyway…

"It's all right. Let's go home." Jose escorted her out of the tent while she buried her face in his shirt. She didn't want to see any more acts.

Jose never expected this to happen to Henrietta in a circus event. Even more so, he never knew she had so much resentment to clowns. Funny to say because he knew how much her friend Rico enjoyed them to bits. She would do absolutely anything to sit back and watch them for hours. It was too bad she was busy on a mission tonight…

…

Rico loaded the last clip into her Beretta. Her target had been running away from them for far too long. Who would have thought his tracks would lead Jean and herself straight into the very art academy where the famous Michelangelo's David stood? Rico took every step cautiously through the unlit hall, which seemed to stretch miles with its countless sculptural works. The only light that illuminated was the moonlight from the arched windows. Despite the seemingly peaceful atmosphere, she knew her target was hiding somewhere.

Jean would have greatly helped if he were here, but before they entered the building, he had made an order to split up and find the sneaky bastard separately. As cold as her handler was towards her, it was apparent that he wanted to see how self-reliant Rico could be in these situations. But nevertheless, he still kept to his responsibility over her.

There was no point in calling for him now, for that would merely expose herself to her target. It was hard to distinguish the shapes hidden under the blanket of shadows. Some of the statues looked well enough to be real. It would have been a shame if she mistakenly shot one of them and damaged their symbolic significance. But she swore she saw something shift between them. She hoped that she hadn't risked revealing herself, but her target was well aware of her presence, and was not afraid to taunt her…

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…ho…hee-hee…a-ha…ho…hee…ha-ha…aren't you rather young to be up this late playing cops and robbers all by yourself?" his grungy voice sent a chill down Rico's spine. She darted her eyes at every visible spot. No luck…he was indeed a good hider in the dark. "Little girls shouldn't be playing with guns. They're just too quick. How do you ever savor all those…little…emotions when you kill somebody, huh?"

Rico tightened her fingers on her gun, creeping slowly towards the statue of David. She could distinctly hear his voice emanating from behind it.

"You see, in their last few moments, people show you who they really are. Has that thought ever occurred to you? With each bullet you've put through every man's head, how do you ever distinguish those who had the balls, and those who were cowards? In a way, I knew my enemies better than you knew yours."

Rico hugged against the statue, sliding carefully towards the edge. Without further hesitation, she spun round, firing a bullet into a harmless tape recorder that she had been listening to. It was a trap…and she felt an icy breath blow at the back of her hair.

"Boo!" her target covered her face with a cloth soaked in chloroform. Rico dropped her gun, wrestling with the man and desperately trying to shake him off with a few elbows and kicks. But even her heightened strength wasn't enough to overpower him as her level of consciousness gradually declined. The last words she heard were: "Hush…it's all part of the plan."

…

"Rico…Rico!" Jean ran through the deserted hall. He knew something had happened when he heard gunfire. He feared the worst when Rico did not respond his calls. "Rico! Where are you? Answer me!"

He froze suddenly when he stepped on something hard under his shoe. Lifting his foot up, he found Rico's gun, and attached to it was a playing card. Jean picked it up for a closer inspection; it was a Joker card.

Something rattled from the ceiling, and Jean shot his eyes up to see what was coming. A shower of unpinned hand grenades plummeted down from an open ventilation shaft. Knowing the immediate danger he was in, Jean ran for the nearest window to escape before being blown into tiny pieces of ash. But he was still caught partly in the inevitable explosion that followed, as the massive force blew him right through the window as glass shards scraped his face and shredded his clothes.

He could barely stand up or shake a limb after his hard fall. His body was stinging like hell. All he could do was reach for his cell phone and dial for emergency backup. He could already taste his own blood…

"The mission has failed." he gasped under his breath, ignoring the sound of police sirens in the distance. "He's gotten away…and he's taken Rico."